


I’m Not The One Wearing A Halo

by AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, dark themes, dark&twisty, re-post from 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell/pseuds/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell
Summary: She’s sitting in the darkness of her living room, watching the flames dancing in the fireplace. Wondering how much it would take to set the house on fire and burn it to the ground. Wondering how long it would take for it to fall to ashes. And she can’t help but laugh.





	I’m Not The One Wearing A Halo

**Author's Note:**

> And a BIG special thank you goes to the wonderful clairebare for beta reading!

**I’m Not The One Wearing A Halo**

**.**

**.**

She’s sitting in the darkness of her living room, watching the flames dancing in the fireplace. Wondering how much it would take to set the house on fire and burn it to the ground. Wondering how long it would take for it to fall to ashes. And she can’t help but laugh.

(What the hell have I become?)

Taking another sip from her wine, she’s looking at the letters on the table. Imagining them engulfed in flames, too. _(Slowly turning to dust)_.

How beautiful would it be to watch his words vanish? Disappear into nothingness?

She keeps listening to the crackling of the fire, wishing it would stop the voices in her head. Wishing it would block out the sound of his words hunting her.  _(But it’s not enough)._  Nothing is. Maybe nothing ever will be.

They’re working together again and she should be happy. Right? But she’s not.

She’s not only responsible for him anymore, no. Their lifes are linked now and she can’t even stop him from taking everything that’s left.  _(Even when it’s the only thing she wants to)._

She’d always been the poster child of an independent woman and not some lovesick teenage girl. She never needed anyone.  _(Why give up being yourself just to be with someone else?)_ That’s what her childhood taught her, right?

(And now, look what’s left of it).

With an angry scream she’s throwing her glass against the wall, watching it shatter. Red wine spilling over white paint and shards flying through the room and slithering over the floor.

She keeps looking at the broken glass, watching them illuminate in the warm light of the fire and suddenly she can’t help thinking about her blood soaking the wooden floor boards.  _(Tainting them forever)._ Absorbing her life and ending her miserable existence.

She’s done.  _(She really is)._

Her sight get’s blurry, her eye lids heavy and she feels herself drifting away.  _(His blue eyes tormenting her)._ But not even they are the same anymore.

He’d changed _._  He’s not the man she’s fallen in love with. Not anymore.

She’d been falling for him almost twelve years ago, because she knew she could never have him. The griefing widower. The griefing father. Untouchable. Even for her.

But now he takes her out for dinner , buys her flowers and wants to hold her hand. He makes love to her until sunrise and keeps whispering how much he loves her almost all the time. And she’s supposed to love it, love him. Isn’t she?

But she can’t.  _(Not the same way he loves her)._

It’s what she was running away from when she left Greg more than twenty years ago. That life with the white picket fence, two kids and a mini van. She never planned on having either of that.

And she still doesn’t want it.  _(No matter how much he wants to live that life with her)._  It only makes her want to run.

He just walked back into her life like nothing ever happened and he still keeps making decisions for her like he has the right to do so. But he hasn’t. And it makes her furious, it really does.

And yet, all it takes is a look, a word or a touch. And she gives in all over again.  _(And yes, she even wrote him letters, too)._

(Tell me now, how pathetic is that?)

Feeling horribly sick she comes back to her senses. Waking up from whatever she was lost in. Doubling over from her place on the couch, already retching and ruining the carpet for good.  _(Fuck, how many pills did she take?)_

She can’t remember clearly. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

And no, she’s not supposed to say that. Of course not. She isn’t even supposed to feel like that.  _(But she does anyway)._

It’s a knock at her front door that makes her look up again. And she’s far too wasted to think straight. Maybe that explains why she’s getting to her feet and stumbling through the dark hallway.

And she can’t stop laughing when she gets a look at Jane as soon as she opens the door.  _(Of course she can’t even kill herself without him ruining it)._

He asks her something, but she doesn’t really get it. And she doesn’t really listen anyway. She makes a few unsteady steps back, stumbling. Searching for something to hold on to.

And he asks her again.

Why can’t he just leave her alone, for God’s sake? What does her want from her? She’s stumbling backwards and he’s grabbing her arms to stady her. Grabbing her so rough it almost hurts.  _(And it feels damn good, doesn’t it?)_

She’s feeling dizzy and her sight gets fuzzy. Something’s pretty wrong she knows. Her knees are giving in a second later and then she’s falling.

He’s yelling her name and grabbing her even rougher than before. But she really can’t keep her eyes open any longer and she doesn’t want to either. _(Let me_   _go, Jane)_. Just let me go.

And she must have said it out loud, because he’s screaming at her. Shaking her. And she’s almost sure he’s talking to someone else, too.

 _(Calling an ambulance, Mister Jane?)_ Good luck with that one.

She doesn’t care fighting the darkness. And she isn’t afraid either.  _(He’s the one wearing a halo now)._

And he’ll find a way to keep her alive anyway. He always does.

(Welcome to my life).

**.**

**.**


End file.
